


Metamorphosis

by Abraxas (Qlippoth)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qlippoth/pseuds/Abraxas
Summary: A series of drabbles based on an AU/AR take of the Sokka/Zuko ship and the Avatar:TLA setting. Shifted to the 19th Century West, Zuko is the son of a rancher and Sokka is the native he falls in love with. Scads of angst and yaoi ensue.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Kudos: 16





	1. You, Again, Fire Eye

**Author's Note:**

> How do I try to explain this? It's hard to believe I actually started and finished this series - it feels like a dream. I was recovering from a PE that I suffered a month earlier and I wanted to write something of substance if only for the challenge of it.
> 
> I'm a sucker for interracial gay romance stories. It's the guiltiest of my guilty pleasures and I won't even pretend to be sorry for it. I'm a gay man and I like what I like! LOL Anyhow - I slow-speed wrecked my way into the Western subgenre whilest still writing fanfic for Inuyasha - and after I marathoned Avatar:TLA I realized it was a better fit overall.
> 
> The first 15 chapters comprise the original series. The last 2 chapters were drabbles loosely connected to the theme so I included them as extras. The 'Substance D' entry, 'Ghost Dance', is also of a similar vein but it deviated too much to include it as an official extra. I planned a sequel; a harddrive somewhere may contain remnants of its aborted chapter which would have been set in modern San Fransisco; I simply couldn't make the idea work.
> 
> I need to give props to an obscure writer of this genre, Vince Water, whose work is still housed at nifty.org, I discovered his Western gay romances some 20 years ago; it's not for everyone tho. Props also go to Richard Amory's 'Song of the Loon', the first gay romance to be taken as a serious work, and Carl Corley's 'Sky Eyes'. Every one of those writers influenced my view of this peculiar genre, good or bad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko, a cowboy, is captivated by Sokka, a native, who's imprisoned at the ranch.

Originally Published December 16, 2009

* * *

I am slave to what is enslaved.

True - I denied myself (and suffered through motions of despair) until I freed myself. I do not fight anymore. I do not grieve what I used to be. Like a butterfly, I am new and different, defined by this preference.

I need to see the Indian if just to know a warrior exists.

A void envelopes the universe. Only moonlight breaks through that abyss. Its eerie blue radiance reveals the figure within the cage.

"You, again, Fire Eye?"

I exhale, relieved, that Sokka was not taken by the noose.

The Indian jumps in front of my face - just a few inches of steel separate us.

My breath is taken away gasp by gasp. My eyes reveal the yearning of the soul. All the while I gaze, lost, as moonlight glimmers across his painted, enshadowed face and I cannot help but imagine my touch exploring his skin.

"How do I know you exist?"

Since they captured their enemy my fear was that I simply imagined Sokka. Could there be any other definition of what a man ought to be? So raw! So free! Gods, so free....

A desire emerges to do what the cattlemen would not approve of.

"Let me go and you find out."

The expression should have broken the spell. Yet a flash of the eyes contradict everything. And like a moth to a flame am I to Sokka.

I unlock the cage.

We embrace, boy to boy, forgetting we are cowboy and Indian. Breaking, our hands meet our hands, our fingers clutch our fingers.

"....Fire Eye.... We are not what we seem to be. You and I."

And then his lips wet my lips.

I notice too late that he fled.

"Sokka," I weep, staggering toward the exit, "you captured me."


	2. What Survives The Kiss Of Sokka?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is haunted by a kiss; he knows what a warrior is and suddenly the cowboys he looked up to don't seem like what they used to be.

Originally Published December 17, 2009

* * *

The world is not what it used to be.

A day - like any other day - only my perception is changed. Everything is altered by a taint of illusion. As if I am trapped not by reality but by a wrenched, uprooted version of it.

I am familiar with that confusion. I learned to live with it at a very early age. When my father forged, this, my condition.

Fire Eye!

My scar - it shackles to the past as it frees from the future.

I stumble into the saloon. Somebody plays Beethoven while Ty-Lee and Mai walk upstairs. Jeong-Jeong and Piandao play poker amid a cloud of smoke and intrigue. I sit by my uncle's picture - it is surrounded with Indians - symbolism?

Bumi offers a drink - to forget - yet I cannot avoid Sokka.

My father was angry when the men informed that the fugitive escaped. Zhao talked about my visiting the Indian frequently. My father dismissed it, citing the influence of my uncle.

I do not trust them - I am suspect and know it.

I empty the glass, a line of white, sticky foam streaks across my knuckles.

If my uncle were not away.

The cattlemen arrive. I joined them partly to rebel against my father's future. Partly to enjoy the benefits of their companionship. As a child I adopted the cowboys who strode through the ranch as a fantasy of manhood. How that crumbled when tested by reality.

Like my uncle I know where manhood begins and ends and neither will be found where I stand.

I exit resigned that I cannot forget Sokka. And I cannot if I linger there as I see my Indian in the voids that others leave. Now that I tasted a warrior I will not retreat into the arms of its imitation.


	3. Bend Me Your Time And Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko journeys into the wilderness to find Sokka; along the way he remembers his father giving him his scar and his uncle taking him under his wing.

Originally Published December 18, 2009

* * *

I wander in search of destiny.

Sun rises. Wind stirs. And into that desert of grass walk I with the stallion.

We gaze at vistas unspoiled by man. The landscape rolling from shades of green to onyx. The horizon where silhouettes of mountains stand - shapes softened by fog into a kind of mirage.

We trek by water through a route my uncle, Iroh, forged the years he fought with Indians.

I should be afraid - out of my family's estate - yet I am calmed by freedom.

A recollection erupts out of time and space - I experience it as if anew.

_A gunshot. A wail of despair. A bison tumbled; its life drowned by the cheer of the cattlemen._

I wept at the violence. Senseless. Cruel. And my father cursed the gods that Azula was female while snuffing my tear with the iron.

My uncle and I escaped into that wilderness. At the campfire we lit a pipe and talked about other, elder nations. It was the start of my education.

That night I awoke to a cough.

"Do not fight it, Zuko, calm, calm," my uncle said and despite fear I complied.

A figure, clad with the hide of a wolf, stood at the campfire. The stranger danced, dusting my wounds with smoke and ash. I watched, hypnotized, the fear transforming into the worship I gave cattlemen. Adoration reawakened by Sokka.

"Dragon of the West...."

The Indian, naked except where painted, embraced my uncle.

"Paku.... Thank you. Thank you."

I with the journey were not just through distance but through time - to forget the tyranny of my father within another era of man.

Sokka - is my love real or an exercise of rebellion?

I intend to know.

I stray into your world, your eyes watching, following, while I reign my offering.


	4. Touch Cannot Deny What Sight Already Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting captured by the tribe, Zuko awakens inside a teepee and meets Sokka again.

Originally Published December 19, 2009

* * *

At the end is it just a dream?

Aroused by the potent, exotic incense I inhale, I sit, and attempt to recall my capture. Frustrated, I return to my prison, its details emerging into view. It is a teepee illuminated by fire; above dangle objects of ceremonies, below stand skins of animals.

I wonder if the chief was satisfied with my tribute. I wonder, too, if the warriors related all of my message. I am unhurt, though, and thankful though I tremble with a mix of anxieties - the roles are reversed.

A coyote's hide trembles. Upon knees then hands it approaches - its mask jerking side to side. It is worn by a youth, skin tanned reddened, painted by figures, covered by a modest length of cloth.

My eyes examine - drawn onto the hands. The hands! From silent, midnight touches. To the expression of a relationship, untested and raw. I know them and when I clutch them contact confirms.

My head swells as if to burst.

I withdraw the mask - it tumbles away. My arms wrap around shoulders. My lips press onto lips. The gesture is returned. Between us the kiss intensifies and impels our hands to ravage what eyes used to see only.

Intoxicated by a freedom forbidden between men of white and red skin that we express we explore levels of intimacy urged by our bodies.

"Such passion," Sokka whispers, his lips wetting my cheek, "such _fire_. What is it you seek? What could it be?"

"Isn't it wrong?"

Sokka smiles and jokes with the words of a language I do not know. He drops me and pins me with all of his warrior's strength. He laughs while I pretend a struggle.

Intertwined we are - nakedness to nakedness - breath to breath.

"Isn't it right, my Fire Eye, at last."


	5. How Do You Make An Avatar?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka shows Zuko around the village; they talk about spirits and the ability to manipulate them ala bending.

Originally Published December 19, 2009

* * *

I walk with hesitation.

Sokka is brave by contrast.

I explain my angst is typical - a man without destiny is a stranger everywhere.

"Zuko," he whispers as if the key to a spell.

A captive meditates. Toph, a tiny, blind girl, sits. Barefoot. She is strong with the spirits of the earth.

"Spirits exist everywhere, forever. Of man. Only a few are acute enough to know them. And of those - the number could be one - are strong enough to control them."

I recall a story my uncle related of a journey with a spirit. 

_I thought it was a tale imagined at bedtime. I did not consider that people believed it. Confronted with my friend, now, I wanted to accept it. Just as I wanted a place to be. That part of me ruined by my father refused to yield._

There are air, earth, water, fire spirits. There are people able to manipulate them. Except air - that was denied. The element was the medium of life thus too important to trust with man.

"But one will be born of the air and restore the world."

I remember - yes, it was part of their argument - that prophesy. My uncle called it the Avatar. My father mocked it. The Avenger of the Indian.

"Can you commune with the spirits?"

"No - but my sister is strong with the water spirits."

We walk through that village of strangers hand-in-hand. He leads. I follow. He smiles saying it is OK. I squeeze wishing it to be true. Is it that I fear my own freedom?

The stigma of my deviance is not easily forgotten.

"And you are, too, with the fire spirits. Paku was certain about it. It's why my father accepted you." He strokes my scar around my eye. "It consumes you."


	6. Our Lives Rounded With Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko 'complete' each other symbolically; a scene disjointed in space and time.

Originally Published December 21, 2009

* * *

It is beyond man to conquer uncertainty.

I am haunted by a thought while I sit in front of the fire. The crackle of chips, consumed by flame, is like a lullaby. It calms me despite a frigid, bitter wind calling at the entrance.

Aang - Katara's first born son - sleeps between us. A resemblance is strong through that family. I picture the child almost as offspring, of course, it is a fantasy.

Sokka. 

I am transfixed by the awesomeness of your face. A tested, warrior's face. I cannot do justice to your stoic yet fierce expression. And to your eyes that reveal the tenderness of your soul.

I fondle your braids, molesting, while you work. 

You display the pipe with its feathers - unlike my uncle's and Paku's which was blunt, ours is capped at the end.

I fill it with peyote and light it with a chip.

Smoke passes our lips under the blanket we share. Time crawls breath by breath. Space is illusion. The universe is but the feel of our skins commingling.

Sokka!

I want this forever but along with peace comes the echo of the ranch. Its cellblock is the only part of it I care to recall. Because what happened within its walls is what connects us still.

It resonates afresh as though I did not leave yet I know the truth. It is gone. It is gone. By my power. Like father it passed into history. 

Now ... new and different dangers brew; at least in side of the teepee we are free.

Sokka dries my tear with a kiss.

I relive that first kiss as if trapped by a spell.

"What if _this_ isn't real? Sokka! I fear I dream...."

"Let it be, if a dream is as real as anything, let us not awaken."


	7. The Marriage Of True Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko confess their need to be together with Hakoda, the cheif of the tribe.

Originally Published December 21, 2009

* * *

I wish to be unashamed.

Sokka admits into his father's teepee; I enter eager to meet the chief.

The interlude is welcome. It breaks the laze of summer. And defers the teaching of Toph and Katara - those motions that stirs the spirits. They intend to help me reconnect with Nature but my fire spirit comes from within and I wither tired of it.

I sit amazed at Sokka and Hakoda interacting. Together their wit is irresistible. I cannot help but laugh at the troublemaking between Batto and Hakoda. And I cannot help but feel melancholy as to see that family magnifies a void that substitute cannot fulfill.

Hakoda lights the pipe, grasps my shoulder, and asks: "Batto says you wanted a trade with that stallion."

I struggle to form a thought; Sokka laughs as Toph asks Katara a question about my capture.

"It is not unheard of," says Batto - the chief's right-hand man - as if reviving a talk interrupted. Recall Paku's involvement with the Dragon of the West - a white."

"He vouched, strongly, in favor of the boy," Hakoda adds. "Like he knew Fire Eye already."

"That name is familiar," I say - I want to say he could be my uncle but I do not yet master their language.

"Indeed, you and Sokka use Paku's teepee. Sokka was supposed to be a man of medicine - like Paku - they share many traits."

"I wish to be with Fire Eye," Sokka declares.

"I wish to be with Sokka," I, too, announce.

I take Sokka by the hand and we interlock fingers between us. Everyone sees it. Even Toph appears to be aware of the gesture. We soar, unchained, freed. And I forget what I was.

Hakoda squeezes a grip atop of our hands - then, nodding, returns his pipe to his lips.


	8. Metamorphosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko reflects upon his very first time with another boy, a young shaven monk, then explores Sokka's body.

Originally Published December 21, 2009

* * *

Let me grow into what I was meant to be.

Life at my family's ranch with its cattlemen was a tragedy. It jaded my spirit and, worse, I gave into isolation, exile. I went about with a mask pretending to be another kind of man. Like a trickster.

It was not always.

What awoke my nature was a tender yet arousing moment.

I wish the name were not a mystery. He was about my age - shaven and wearing bright yellow and orange robes. He was part of a spiritual, nomadic caravan. My uncle said they were visitors from Tibet. 

Details were blurred by years, disjointed by my reliving and reworking the event. It was worship what my lips accomplished smothering, devouring his treasure. Where I gained those skills I cannot say.

I wanted but could not find anything like that. Then, as my father shattered my world, I struggled to keep my status. My uncle tried to help but I failed to appreciate his wisdom until he vanished. Killed, they said, by the vengeance of Indians.

He suffered what I suffered.

Sokka is the window into a world where I am that twelve-year-old again. I revel with my freedom of his body. I crave those blazing, midnight acts that draw my fingers onto his nakedness.

I grasp Sokka where a warrior is vulnerable. Enveloping. Caressing. My kneading expresses without word a thousand intimacies. I watch as my love flourishes. Growing out of a seed. Yearning. Aching. I rain my kiss onto its stalk. Its length I wash with my tongue from base to tip - there my prize emerges. Silky. Violet. It shudders expectant as it pokes through a sleek, fleshy bud. Blooming like a flower with dew.

Sokka gasps my name while I wipe my lips of nectar.


	9. Paradise Lost?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his father and his henchmen make trouble for the natives, Zuko realizes he needs to go confront his family.

Originally Published December 24, 2009

* * *

There is too much unsaid, incomplete.

I feel like the world is fragile - as if the slightest bit of scrutiny is enough to undo the fabric of its existence.

Sokka extends a talisman: a jumble of feathers and claws bound by leather.

I accept it.

Wrapped by the vice of his arms I am content. Yet fulfillment is impossible. Until I vanquish my corruptor. This, my exile, is cowardice compared to his bravery and that mismatch cannot endure.

"I need to go."

A tear swells out of his eye and my resolve is killed a little. I promise, again, not to go. And my quest is delayed.

Word spreads of Zhao - _the butcher_ \- my father's right-hand man. Tension rises as Hakoda and Batto conference with other Lakota chiefs. Winter approaches as I train to be strong. Toph and Katara agree with my plan and wish to join. Slowly. Gradually. Sokka relents. We know a day of reckoning is inevitable.

We sit beneath the eagles of Paku's abode after a trial of the fire-dance. Sokka brushes a skull. I study his fingers working that ornament. My eyes are drawn onto his regalia. His face painted with the color of the season. His chest adorned with beadwork formed into ribs like a shield. His writs and ankles adorned with a mix of fur and feather. And every so often I see a patch of naked skin.

The skull shakes - his face tilts toward the ground.

"I know why you need to go. But, Fire Eye, if I lose you ... it will be my death. If I lose you to the spirits...."

"Never." I stop his lips with a kiss - our faces smudge with that wintry silver hue. "Never! I'll chase you around this turtle island before I give you up...."


	10. Bound In A Nutshell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A springtime interlude between Zuko and Sokka.

Originally Published December 24, 2009

* * *

It comes to be that I know not where I am.

I step into the water. Alone, I feel adrift through time and space. I forget the difference between real and imagined and, at length, am content to be fooled into oblivion.

I catch Sokka.

The Indian blesses me with a gift as his skins tumble onto the ground. The sight of his dusky, cut features stir fires within my soul. I watch as he wades into the water with the grace of a girl - an intimate juxtaposition of male and female.

We gaze face to face. Above, the spring-time sky is gray. Below, the trees are sprinkled with green. Smoky, distant mountains reflect onto the water's surface. Caught by that mirror we are trapped between two worlds.

Sokka lathers my face - neck - chest - and onto other, deeper regions. I shudder as if struck by a bolt of lightning when his hands cup and his fingers squeeze. I suck onto his lip and look into his eyes suddenly aware of their sweet azure wetness - the reflection of the water.

He strokes my excitement while I grasp his cheeks beneath the waves. My hands wander along his back with a frenzy of rubbing and groping. With a gasp I submit my body to the vulnerable surges of pleasure that follow. Stirring. Urging. Aching. I expose myself completely as my will melts into a fury of spasm - like the steps of a ceremony entirely and uniquely my own.

He ups the rhythm and my body replies as if it were the beat of a drum. I am lost to uncontrollable and exaggerated movement. We circle each other in the middle of the stream - then, at last, we kiss and the dance ends.

I rest at the shore - exhausted - my grip wet.


	11. The Anguish Of Prometheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko returns to Bumi's saloon on a mission to gather a little intelligence; confrontation with his father appears imminent.

Originally Published December 27, 2009

* * *

I will not go blind into the abyss.

The street by the saloon is littered with flyers. Wanted. Lost & Found. Adverts - to a circus featuring delights of Asia. I search yet do not find a poster about my absence. 

I cannot state the length of my exile. It seemed to be just a series of days and nights without count. Time - I was free of it and of those other enslavements limiting my civilization. 

Gods am I grateful to have been given the privilege of tasting another way of life.

Into the establishment I stride careful not to seem like a stranger. Outside I am unchanged. Inside my perception is altered. And I cannot let the subtlety of my unconscious seep into my manner.

The piano plays a tune I do not recognize. The cattlemen go about their business. Bumi plays with Piandao - Jeong-Jeong's seat is empty. I cannot see Ty Lee and Mai.

My table is occupied but without fret I grab a chair - I settle into it and peek about while reading a journal. Sitting. Idling. I listen to chatter. It is the object of my mission.

I learn Zhao joined a cocky eastern general to rout the Lakota. Another raid into unceeded Indian country. And my father returned after the last cattle drive. 

"So." It is Jeong-Jeong. He sits. He asks: "Find your uncle?"

"Yeah."

I shrug and watch the game of cards.

"Fire - what a burden to man! It made all of this, all of this, this ... _civilization_. Stolen out of the grips of the gods we usurp. Yet how it consumes us!"

He rejoins the game only a few feet away - into the realm of another world.

I stand noting too late a pair of feathers had been drawn onto my uncle's image.


	12. Like A Fly To A Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While his friends conduct a ceremony to the Avatar, Zuko comes back home to confront his father.

Originally Published December 27, 2009

* * *

From the moment I took breath I was doomed.

I cannot delay it - without _this_ there will be no peace in my heart ... no place to be free.

The profile of my family's capitol. Like a Mexican enclave. White, plaster walls capped with tiles. Windows gazing empty with a dread, cool expression. I notice a crack, a spine with a craze of tributaries, from top to bottom. Nature fights man again.

My heart races - I stand for my friends, in spite of the danger, I am washed by courage. 

I will not fail.

I reach the gate - surprised Azula is not present - instead it is a pair of wranglers.

They must be green else so convinced of my demise that they need to ask my name to be sure.

As if caught by a trance I answer: 'Fire Eye'.

They laugh then confer while pointing at my scar.

Events follow. Trees rustling. Dust scattering. Shapes, like cattle, passing. Laughter. Words are shouted between men.

I do not betray a fragment of emotion. I must be brave for Sokka who ventures the path of a warrior to protect the tribe. And for Toph and Katara who dance to the Avatar today. 

Am I mesmerized by the drum even at a distance? Or is time and space truly illusion?

I am brought into the house. Cloaked by shadow and darkness, the world is void, except at windows yawning into vistas of sky. The call of a bird startles - I see its struggle, its flapping.

It is the eagle chained to a cage. Scalps decorate the floor around the prison. Gifts of Zhao no doubt.

As if it were impossible I find new ways to loathe the monster pretending to be a father.

"Zuko - the Indian fighter - how dishonor runs in the family...."


	13. Worlds Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and his father share a 'heart to heart' conversation which leads to threats, slurs and firebending.

Originally Published December 28, 2009

* * *

"I am Fire Eye."

My father laughs.

The guards - I hear their hands reach their guns. He waves off the gesture. He is not afraid of the boy he tormented.

It is not that child who faces him.

"The ghost of Iroh revenges through you?" He steps into a slant of light. Wind stirs his jacket. "Where did you go? What of the boy you freed? Is my son a squaw to a brave?"

"I am not your son."

The eagle shrieks - its chain rattles.

"He died," I point at my scar. "Remember? I died to you when you tried to snuff my life with a prod! Animal skinned like a man - what kind of monster are you? Still. I tried to follow your standards and I tried to settle into your world. What a stupid broken dog you must have thought of me - looking for your love - begging for Azula's crumbs! Iroh was my father."

"Iroh. Always Iroh - the great Indian fighter. If only.... I won't be enshadowed anymore. I'm turning my name into a weapon these savages will not forget. I'm taming their territory enforcing my civilization."

"I end you like you end me."

He slaps and I fall onto the floor.

"You and what army?"

I stand, shirt torn by violence.

The ground trembles - the crack along the wall widens. The air rumbles - the storm cracks thunder, lightning. It illuminates my chest and I do not resist as he grabs the talisman. I watch, restrained by cattlemen, as the trinket crumbles onto the floor.

"Now, where's your Indian, Fire Eye?"

I feel it, like heat, growing, building, out of my body. As if a life struggling to be birthed. My hands rise forward. The men struggle but cannot fight it. With a shout. My fingers blast lightning.


	14. To Know Itself Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ranch meets its demise at the hands of the Avatar...whose face is very familiar to Zuko.

Originally Published December 28, 2009

* * *

We see only a shade of the infinite.

The gunfire of the cattlemen is drowned by a violent mixture of sound. A torrent exploding above. The earth trembling, sinking below. And a stampede detonating at the calamity.

My lightning knocks my father then splatters the wood of the roof - amid the smoke I tumble out of the crack.

"Father!" the voice of what I used to be shouts through whisper as I land within the courtyard. 

Bolts of lightning attack the top of the enclave. Windows shatter. Walls gasp. The crack spreads.

I flee toward a hill while the men and the cattle swirl into a frenzy - they try to escape yet seem caught as if by a maelstrom.

The house tears like a bud about to bloom. A tower of fire replaces its flower. It appears the structure comes undone by the whirlwind - instead it sinks.

I know my strike is not capable of such a display. And while my friends bend the spirits as I do it is not enough. Human intervention alone is incapable of what I see. The spectacle takes my breath away and I quake, awed, at the sight of Nature naked.

The last of the house pokes out of the earth - the eagle, chained, fails to fly and it too is dragged into hell.

I wander dazed until I reach a tree. I am startled by a boy. Robes of red and orange. Engaging in a movement that urges a shriek out of my lips. The dance, shifting through time and space, seems to destroy and create together. Like tales of eastern Asian gods my uncle told me.

The face! It is that boy.

The wind stirs and when it calms I see nothing. Yet - although just a moment, an instant - I understand.

"Avatar...."


	15. The Last Air-Bender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Sokka head into the wilderness in search of the Avatar.

Originally Published December 29, 2009

* * *

I hope to be worthy.

The work is finished. I am untroubled as the ghost of my past is at rest. Like caterpillar to butterfly, Zuko is cast, a man named Fire Eye is arisen. As I charge into sunset I know the future is ahead.

"We will not be long," Sokka says to Katara atop the stallion.

Family waits a few days' ride away. Past the jagged ridge of hills. Along a stream where the village is pitched. No, it will not be long, we cannot be too far.

We are armed with a flyer when we catch the trail.

I ride driven by a vision. I was not dreaming when I saw it. It was real, as real as the smoke that choked the sun, the hole that swallowed the ranch.

I stand by a tree while Sokka sits at the campfire. A cold, bitter air stirs the branches and rustles its leaves. I shiver, clasped by Nature, yet I feel safe. Accepted.

_How you hide like a dream. We touched and I know I am part of you. I feel you there. In the sky. In the earth. You are the water I drink and the food I eat. Even in the flames of fire you hide._

Or did I only imagine it? So much seems unreal.

Sokka's arm rests onto my shoulder; my arm wraps about his waist.

"What if we find him?"

Against Sokka's chest I sigh. A silky, purple flower seems to bloom out of my hand. It shivers and I warm it with my touch.

"I don't know."

 _You are like destiny - but twice you awoke my nature_.

At daybreak we mount the horse.

_We ride while your trail is fresh. I intend to find you again. I know you are there. Avatar...._


	16. Extra - Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he tracks the Avatar, Zuko is beset by self-doubt.

Originally Published January 14, 2010

* * *

The world evolves and day by day reveals its variety, infinite and inexhaustible.

Sokka takes the reign while I latch onto his waist. We trace a river - according to the map a city is nearby. What we do after we arrive we do not know. Where we go beyond that day is mystery. The circus we follow is elusive - always another ride away.

I feel hesitant - even doubtful - as I travel my surety wavers and I wonder about those changes.

Avatar, I question why I chase you. What is it I need to know? What is it, truly, I want?


	17. Extra - Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iroh enjoyed making tea with Zuko. After the man vanished, the boy let that love of tea lapse and regrets it.

Originally Published July 10, 2010

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Zuko, unable to sleep, looked at the peak of the teepee. An eerie, bright moon shined through its gap. Suggestions of stars. Outlines of trees. A cool, autumn scent. All of it seeped through the fabric of the hide.

Sokka, wrapped by fur, seemed to invite an intimate and entangled union - yet he kissed the warrior and left the bed. 

At the center of the hut, a fire demanded attention. While everyone slept he tended it, enlivened it, until it roared anew. Then he filled a tin with water and set it above.

Uncle could have brewed the tea asleep yet awake he struggled. 

What leaves were right? What mixture was popper? At what point was the water ready? How long to brew the tea? Four cups of water were spoilt by failure. Only the fire enjoyed the experiment as it happily consumed those remains.

Sokka crawled toward Zuko. Cloaked by the fur only the head was exposed. Although the light revealed glimpses of a chest and a pair of hands clutching the skin. Exile leaned into Indian leaves of grass falling, one by one, into the kettle as his fingers lost their grip. It brewed between them, vapors rising and curling - and vanishing.

"I used to be good at tea," Zuko explained. "Uncle taught me everything...."

Sokka raised the vessel and sipped the brew.

A smile and the cup passed from hand to hand.

"Maybe he enjoyed making it more than drinking it?"

He paused while steam caressed his face. He tried but could not find that magic. He was out of practice. It had been years and years ... since ... they made a cup of tea together. Since Iroh disappeared.

"I let the art lapse, I neglected it - and - Uncle."

Sokka held Zuko and they gazed at the fire.


End file.
